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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899891">Pros and Cons of Lockdown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612'>Pennygirl612</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Third Strike [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>White Collar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Elizabeth and Peter are the best tv couple ever, F/M, I love Hughes, Porn With Plot, Set in my "Third Strike" universe, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:54:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in my Third Strike world, Peter once again finds himself in troubled waters with his wife during lockdown.  Hughes comes partially to the rescue but Peter has to learn his own lesson.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Third Strike [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1463911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pros and Cons of Lockdown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer:  This story relates to my Third Strike series but it's not necessary to read the other stories first.  If you like this one, you will like the others.  Also, this story refers to Covid and lockdown.  It's meant to be taken lightly and in humor and should in now way reflect the belief that I don't take the current situation seriously.  I do.  I just also think more than ever we need to find some humor in our lives.  This is my attempt at that.  Well, that, and I think Peter and Elizabeth are one smoking hot couple who did not get enough screen time on the show.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Peter entered their townhouse with the last bags from the grocery store, Elizabeth was looking noticeably anxious.  Thus far she had already emptied and put away the contents of the first set of bags and was now peeking through the ones he just put down on the table.  Clearly, his wife was looking for something specific.  </p><p>His wife was sporting a frown as she finished emptying out the final bag when it hit Peter what he had forgotten.  Batteries.  She had asked him to buy the bulk pack of double As.  In fact, she had told him several times not to forget and had been rather adamant about it.  </p><p>Feeling her glare, Peter reluctantly brought his eyes up to meet hers.  The blue was a dark midnight, hinting both at her disappointment and exasperation.  Putting up a hand, Peter took the bull by the horns and readily acknowledged he had forgotten.  He even offered to go back out but reminded her that the quarantine was now in effect and everyone was supposed to stay home short of an emergency need.  Batteries, he told her in a tone that reflected his belief, hardly seemed to fit the bill as an emergency.  </p><p>Peter watched as Elizabeth opened her mouth to dispute his claim but stopped before uttering a single word.  She looked away, gathering her thoughts.   It gave him the impression that somehow this was a bigger deal than he imagined. Still he waited, impatiently, for her to clue him in.  </p><p>Instead, when she at last turned back, Elizabeth asked a seemingly random question.  “You’re working from home for the foreseeable future, right?” </p><p>When he nodded, a smile formulated on his wife’s lips causing Peter to reassess the situation.  That smile and the buzzing vibe emanating from his wife all disputed the innocence of her question.  And the look he was getting, the one causing him increasing concern, was the one usually reserved for when he had just stepped into something, and she was going to give him just enough rope to hang himself.  Then and only then would she bail Peter out of the shit he had stepped into.</p><p>“Then you’re right,” Elizabeth said, her face brightening.  “Who needs batteries when I have you!”</p><p>Peter’s brow furrowed displaying his confusion.  “Don’t worry, Hon,” Elizabeth told him.  “You’re a smart man.  You’ll figure it out…eventually.”  </p><p>With that, Elizabeth came over and gave him a tap on his nose.  Shit.  His wife only did that when she was amused by her clueless husband.  Watching her leave, Peter got the sinking feeling this was another life lesson he was going to learn the hard way, and worse yet, one his wife was going to enjoy teaching. </p><p>Though suspicious, the next couple of days passed without any noteworthy incidents.  Truth be told, Peter reaped the benefits of the lockdown both on a professional and personal level.  Through Skype meetings with his team, three cold cases were cleared off the books.  And when he told his wife of each one, she shared in his success and helped him celebrate with a vigorous romp in the hay.  And he was thinking even after the quarantine was lifted, he should consider working from home more often. </p><p>But he had woken on the third full day of lockdown feeling a tad rough.  His wife had been rather insatiable the evening before and while he certainly hadn’t complained in the heat of the moment, now he was feeling the effects of all that exertion.  His knees, his back, even his jaw was aching from the work out received the night before.  His wife on the other hand had woken up cheery, seemingly an endless bundle of energy, humming happily to herself as she moved about the townhouse showing no ill effects at all. </p><p>It was after an unsuccessful brainstorming session that Peter got his first clue that something with his wife was a bit off.   While on the call, Elizabeth had been nearby, partially listening in.  When he had hung up, she seemed even more disappointed than he that the meeting ended without a breakthrough or some level of progress propelling the case forward.  But minutes later, Neal had called back with just that, a way to identify their bad guy and a game plan to prove it.</p><p>Hanging up the phone, Peter turned and practically ran into his wife who looked up at him with hopeful eyes asking if they had just solved another one.</p><p>And that’s when it hit Peter.  The hope, and the motive behind it.  Elizabeth wanted an excuse to ‘celebrate’ with him again which put Peter in quite the pickle.  He couldn’t lie to his wife, but he knew what was going to happen if he gave affirmation.  While his dick instantly twitched in agreement with that idea, the rest of his body, his brain included, rebelled.  He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and Peter was quickly discovering a downside to marrying a woman several years younger than him.   </p><p>Swallowing hard, Peter tried to play off that the victory was minor, but Elizabeth’s eyes lit up even as she moved towards him.  Peter attempted to retreat, to find excuses for why their celebration should wait, but Elizabeth would hear none of it, heaping praise on her Special Agent, and Peter was momentarily distracted by her compliments and forgot he was supposed to be fending her off.  Then it was too late as Peter’s ass hit the hard edge of the dining room table.  </p><p>“I like how you’re thinking, Hon,” his wife said, continuing her advance.  “It’s been a while since we made proper use of the table.”  </p><p>Frozen in place, Peter watched as Elizabeth made quick work of unbuttoning his fly.  Before he could protest, his khakis were lying at his feet and a small, cold hand was inside his boxers freeing him from all constraints.  Closing his eyes, a soft groan escaped his lips at her touch.  A few long, lazy strokes, and he was fully hard.  His normally observant, always present brain, chose to take a siesta, only returning to his body when his wife’s hand left his cock and turned him around.  </p><p>Opening his eyes, he found his wife bent over the table, skirt hiked up, no underwear in sight which elicited an involuntary groan from him.  And Peter knew he was fucked, and left with no choice but to give in.  Stepping forward, Peter’s hands gripped her waist and he did his duty, entering her from behind in one swift motion, stopping only when fully seated inside. </p><p>Surrounded by her heat, it was nearly enough to set him off, so he bit his lip and took a deep breath.  Before he could focus on the task at hand, Elizabeth rolled her hips from side to side and ground back on him causing another gasp to escape his lips.  But he got her message:  move!  </p><p>For the sake of his back and knees, Peter tried to set a slower pace, but her urging him to go deeper, faster, cursing him, only spurred his tired body on thrust after damn thrust.  Gritting his teeth, Peter was determined to be a gentleman and see to her satisfaction first, but fuck, she felt so good...  Just when he wasn’t sure he could hold out, Elizabeth shuttered around his cock allowing him to quickly follow her down the Merry Go Round of pleasure.<br/>

And while he stood there, hunched over, tired to the bone, he watched in disbelief as his wife hoped off the table and repositioned her skirt back in place.  Happily humming, she moved past him, smacking his ass on her way out of the room.  Fuck, he thought left there to recover.</p><p>Later that afternoon with files stacked on the coffee table in front of him, Peter knew he needed to buckle down and concentrate if he was going to accomplish anything further for the day.  Since his little tryst with his wife earlier, he had felt distracted, concerned more about what she was up to than the cases he was supposed to be working.  </p><p>While he really didn’t believe Elizabeth was trying to kill him with sex, at the rate she was going it could very well be an unwanted byproduct from her master plan.  And Peter had to admit there were worse ways to go.  Still, he was smart enough to recognize her sudden need for sex had something to do with the lesson she was teaching him.  He just hoped he could figure everything out before suffering a heart attack.</p><p>Later that night having brushed his teeth, Peter wanted nothing more than to crawl quietly into bed and sleep the sleep of the dead.  He was exhausted mentally from the demands of a long workday as well as physically from the two rounds of sex with his wife.  </p><p>(Yes, two rounds.  Damn his team for their smarts and dedication.  Jones had called late afternoon having electronically followed the money on an old embezzlement case back to the account holding the misappropriated money.  That’s where Blake had taken over, tracing the account through numerous shell companies until he found the original owner.  Thus, another cold case was cleared and yet another need for ‘celebration’.  Yay, team!)  </p><p>So, the moment his head hit the pillow, Peter was out only to be awakened sometime later by wet lips anchoring themselves like magnets onto his cock.  Eyes popping open, he met the blue eyes staring back at him along with the accompanying smirk that had been planted on her face far too frequently over the past several days.   </p><p>In his mind, Peter squirmed out from under his wife, more or less tossing her aside, before scrambling off the bed to relative safety.  Unfortunately (fortunately?) in reality, Peter remained on the bed, eyes closed, head thrown back because his evil (wonderful) wife was exacting just the right amount of suction and doing that twirl thing with her tongue that made his blood flow southward 0 to 60 in t-minus 5 seconds.  </p><p>Just when he could feel the building pressure, his wife let go, his cock escaping her mouth with a pop.  But this was no reprieve for Peter who wearily watched as his wife climbed up his chest, straddled his thighs, and without further ado sank down unto his throbbing cock.  </p><p>If Peter had anything left to spew, he was certain he would have exploded right then and there.  Instead it was with a mixture of pleasure and pain that Peter remained on his back, occasionally managing a pathetic upward thrust of his own, but mainly left to be a pedestrian watching as his wife relentlessly rode his cock.<br/>
And it caused Peter to wonder if he fell back to sleep right then (which was a distinct possibility) would Elizabeth even notice?  Would she stop or just keep going?  Deciding he likely didn’t want to know the answer, Peter thought it in his best interest to speed up the process just so he could get some much deserved rest.  Collecting all the energy he could muster, Peter thrust up into his wife roughly rubbing his thumb across her nub.  Immediately, Elizabeth clutched around him, crying out his name before finally collapsing down on his chest.  Thank God!, Peter thought and sank back into the mattress.</p><p>Once she caught her breath, Elizabeth rose from the bed entering the bathroom to presumably clean herself up.  When she returned, body glistening from the hot shower, hair still damp, Peter’s eyes tracked her, preparing to flee if attack seemed eminent.  But his wife did nothing more than lay beside him, head on his chest, hands thankfully kept completely to herself.  </p><p>Still, Peter was enough on edge that sleep eluded him.  Even the slightest movement from his wife, had his eyes popping open, hands protectively cupping his junk, fearing the worse.  So, it was just before the sun rose that Peter slid out of bed, feeling more exhausted than ever unsure how he was going to make it through the day if his wife woke up feeling…frisky.  </p><p>Minutes later, Peter sat on the back-porch stairs, a steaming cup of coffee in hand lost in thought.  Five days.  It had only been five days!  He loved his wife.  He loved making love to his wife.  But he couldn’t understand what was going on, what lesson he was supposed to be learning.  There was only one thing clear to Peter.  No way in hell could he keep this sexual pace up!  </p><p>Peter was so confused and frustrated he began grasping at straws.  And so, he spent the next hour reading everything he could on the corona virus just to see if your wife turning into a nymphomaniac was listed as a possible symptom.  And what he found was- nothing…nada…no link at all.</p><p>From inside the kitchen, Peter heard stirrings and knew his time undiscovered was on a short clock.  His heart beating faster, Peter was down to minutes if not seconds and then, well then, he would somehow find himself pleasing his wife.  Able to see her shadow approaching the door, Peter took the actions of a desperate man.  He speed-dialed his boss.</p><p>“Burke, do you know what time it is?”  Hughes barked.</p><p>Ignoring the question and tone, Peter spoke quickly but quietly into the phone.  “Sir, permission to work in the office today.”</p><p>“Denied,” Hughes snapped.  “Burke, the rules and restrictions placed on us from above were made very clear.  Only under special, unique circumstances are any of us to break the lockdown.”</p><p>“But, Sir,” Peter insisted, voice practically begging.  “I really, really need to work in the office today.” </p><p>Before Hughes could respond, the kitchen door opened and Elizabeth, his wife with the unquenchable thirst for sex, was standing in the doorway, dressed only in one of his button-down shirts.  </p><p>“Peter, Hon,” Elizabeth said triumphant. “Here’s where you’ve been hiding.”</p><p>Covering up the speaker, Peter said, “Sorry, El, I’m on the phone with Hughes.  Work thing, I’m afraid.  I may even have to go in today,” he told her trying to sound apologetic.  He was pretty sure she wasn’t buying what he was selling.</p><p> “But, Hon, I had big plans for us today!”  </p><p>Gulping, Peter stuttered, “I-I-know, El, and-and-I wish I didn’t have to work, but duty calls…I’ll-I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”  </p><p>God help him, he thought, as he uttered that last part recognizing he may have just written a check, his body had no way of cashing.  But he was desperate.  If he could get out of the house today at least, he had bought himself some time to recover and possible reformulate a new game plan moving forward.  </p><p>He could feel his wife’s eyes locked in on him, observing, likely noticing the nervous twitch of his lip and the fact he couldn’t quite make eye contact.  No, his smart wife wouldn’t be fooled for a minute.  Risking a glance at her, he could tell she was already having serious doubts about the veracity of him being called into work during a pandemic.  And Peter attempted not to flinch, held his breath, and prayed that she would not call his bluff.   But of course, she did, and he watched helplessly, as his wife smartly stepped forward snatching the phone from his grasp before he could even react.  </p><p>Placing the phone on speaker, Elizabeth said sweetly, “Good morning, Reese.” </p><p>Initially there was silence on the other end.  Then there was a sigh.  “Good morning, Elizabeth.  My best agent has stepped into something again, hasn’t he?  Third strike?”</p><p>Elizabeth locked eyes with her husband.  “Yes, to the first and no, to the second.  But I would really appreciate it if you could afford him the opportunity to telework again today.   In fact, maybe the day off instead.  You don’t have a problem with that, do you, Reese?”</p><p>Another sigh came across the line.  “No, of course not, Elizabeth.”  More silence.  Then, “Uh, could you put Peter back on please.”</p><p>Without a word, Elizabeth handed the phone over to her husband.  “Don’t keep me waiting long.  It’s breakfast time—and I find myself feeling hungry, very hungry.”</p><p>Peter waited until the door closed and took a deep breath.  His call to Hughes was leaving him in a worse position than when he had started.  Shit.  He switched the phone off speaker.  “Sir.”</p><p>“What did you do, Peter?” Hughes asked, his tone not accusing as much as amused.</p><p>Peter exhaled sharply, “I don’t know exactly!  She’s been---” Peter stopped.  He couldn’t very well explain to his boss that his wife had been on sexual overdrive for five days now, could he?  But then again, this was the same man who had given his wife her very own beginners bondage kit.  No, this man might just be the only one who could understand his plight.</p><p>“She’s been what, Peter?”</p><p>“Different.”</p><p>“Different, how?” his boss prodded.</p><p>“Fucking insatiable!” Peter exclaimed.  And having opened that can of worms, he proceeded to tell Hughes everything that had occurred since the lockdown.  </p><p>“Your wife doesn’t turn into a nymphomaniac just for the hell of it.  She’s making a point,” Hughes said cutting to the chase.  </p><p>Exasperated, Peter flailed one arm up, “Don’t you think I know that?!”</p><p>“So, I ask you again.  What have you done to set her off?”</p><p>“Nothing, I’ve done nothing…” Peter’s voice trailed off and then it dawned on him.  The possible link.  “Son of a bitch.  All this because of batteries?”</p><p>“Excuse me,” Hughes said.  He wasn’t sure he had heard Peter correctly.</p><p>“Batteries,” Peter repeated, more to spark his own memory than to offer explanation to Hughes.  “I forgot to buy batteries at the store still I don’t know what that has to do--”</p><p>“What size,” Hughes asked cutting Peter off.  “Were they double As?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Peter said, perplexed yet hoping this meant his boss knew something he didn’t. “But I don’t know what the big deal is.  I just changed the batteries in the remote and that’s the only thing in the house that uses that size.  Clearly, my wife is creating an emergency that doesn’t yet exist.  Hell, she hardly ever even watches TV!”</p><p>The other end of the line turned silent again.  Peter frowned.  He was clearly missing something.<br/>
Before he could ask, Hughes spoke, his voice trying to maintain patience with his agent. “Damnit Burke, do you have to learn everything the hard way?”</p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>Hughes sighed.  “A woman has needs, while a man-”</p><p>“-has limitations,” Peter finished automatically remembering telling Hughes that lesson following the swing incident. </p><p>“Yes, exactly,” Hughes readily agreed.  Then continued when it was obvious Peter still hadn’t had his lightbulb moment. “I can assure you the remote’s not the only item in your house that requires double A batteries to function.”  While Peter thought that over, Hughes did the unexpected.  He outrighted laughed at Peter.  “Are you really this clueless about women, Peter?!”  </p><p>“Fuck,” Peter answered as it finally dawned on him another usage for batteries and why his wife was acting the sex fiend.  Still understanding his wife’s issue solved only half of Peter’s problem.  “What do I do?” he asked.  With the lockdown in place, no one was supposed to go out except for emergency supplies.  As dire as his situation was, Peter didn’t want to have to explain any of it to an officer that might stop and question him.</p><p>Hughes response was simple and direct.  “You’re going to have to make a sacrifice…”</p><p>Minutes later having made his decision that he was not giving up his TV, Peter re-entered the house on a mission to find his wife.  He didn’t have far to search and was momentarily caught off guard spying his fully naked wife sitting casually on the kitchen island, innocently sipping a cup of hot tea.  </p><p>With a growl, Peter shifted course straight for her.  Raising to full height, he towered over her, closed his eyes and inhaled, taking in her smell.  He crowded further into her personal space and witnessed her raised eyebrow, throwing down a challenge to him.  Her message was clear.  So now that you know, what are you going to do about it?  Well, Peter had ideas about that!</p><p>Without warning, Peter pressed forward pushing her down onto her back.  Hands placed on either side of her shoulders, Peter stared into his wife’s eyes, witnessed the darkening before moving in to press his lips firmer against hers.  His tongue probed, demanded entrance.  She acquiesced sending their tongues dueling and dancing until he leaned back, both breathless.  </p><p>Knowing exactly how she liked it, Peter pressed kisses starting behind Elizabeth’s ear, sucking and nipping his way down her neck, stopping at the juncture of her shoulder, sinking in his teeth, ensuring a possessive mark was left behind.  Peter moved to her right breast.  He licked her areola with the flat part of his tongue, circling around the nipple without touching.  Only when she started to squirm did Peter at last take her breast into his mouth.  Not so gently, he bit down on a nipple, smirking at the gasp that escaped her.  Moving to the other side because he was a firm believer in fair and equal treatment, he handled the left breast in similar fashion.  </p><p>And because he was feeling particularly ornery, he briefly returned to the right breast knowing it was still sensitive and bit down again.  This time a full-on curse blasted out of his wife’s mouth and only his weight kept her from coming up off the island.  Withdrawing, he was right pleased to find the nipple red and swollen in his wake, another possessive mark.  He dared a glance up at his wife.  She was looking utterly debauched, eyes half glazed over, chest heaving, hair in beautiful disarray.</p><p>“Peter, please,” she begged, meeting his gaze.  </p><p>Returning to the work at hand, Peter kissed down her stomach making another stop to spend some tongue attention to her belly button.  This was a particularly sensitive spot for his wife, and he was taken full advantage of every trick in his playbook.  </p><p>“Please what?” Peter murmured now hovering directly over her promise land, millimeters above, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.  She tried to lift her hips up, but he just moved to a higher position chuckling at her impatient whine, thrilled that he had finally turned the table and assumed control.  The TV was his kingdom.  The remote would not be relinquished!  </p><p>“Pl-please, Peter,” she stuttered.  “I need…I need…mother fucker!” She exclaimed when he unexpectantly plunged two of his long, thick fingers inside her.</p><p>Grinning, Peter spent the next few minutes working his fingers in and out, occasionally swiping his thumb over her clit, taking her right to the precipice before bringing her back down.  It was enough to have her alternating between cursing and begging and left Peter wanting to take her further down the edge.  </p><p>Spreading her further open, Peter tentatively lapped inside producing a low moan from his own lips at his first taste.  Feeling the heat rushing to his groin, Peter gave up all pretext of control and concentrated on getting his wife off.  He returned his fingers back inside setting a slow rocking motion while simultaneously sucking and gently biting her clit.  </p><p>Another curse from his wife, and Peter knew she was once again getting close.  He kept his fingers at their steady pace and deepened the diving of his tongue until the quivering started in his wife’s legs and moved into her thighs.  A steady fuck, fuck, fuck! resonated in his ears until Elizabeth stilled for just a moment, that calm before the storm, and then she unleashed herself with one last curse.  But Peter didn’t stop there.  He did withdraw his fingers but he continued to lick and suck all the way through the first release and straight into her second.  And it wasn’t until she begged him practically crying that he finally stopped. </p><p>Staring up at her, Peter’s breath was nearly stolen away.  Her tussled hair, breasts jiggling in time with her heavy breathing, eyes mere slits.  In short, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  And he really was the luckiest guy in the world…even when she was being a mischievous little shit…maybe even because she was a mischievous little shit sometimes.</p><p>“Fuck Peter, that-that was amazing, but I’m-I’m-going to need a moment before I can take care of that,” Elizabeth whispered, her tone sounding worn out in all the right ways.  </p><p>But her words confused him, and it wasn’t until she pointed down at his groin area that he understood.  His own supposed to be exhausted member was proudly standing tall within the confines of his sweatpants.  </p><p>Son of a bitch! Peter thought glaring down at the betrayal.  Did junior there not understand how fucking tired the rest of his body was?  Did junior fail to appreciate all the energy just exerted to satisfy Elizabeth and thereby save possession of the TV remote?  Apparently, he did because a minute later when Elizabeth said she was almost ready; junior’s response was to do a little happy dance and to strain in the direction of his wife’s voice.   It’s not all about you, junior, Peter silently reprimanded to no avail.</p><p>Looking up, he noticed his wife was sliding off the island, feet a bit unsteady beneath her. Briefly pride swelled in him that he was the cause of her jelly legs, but then she regained her strength moving towards him with a decided purpose.  Peter backed away and put out his hands to ward her off.  “Nope.  No ma’am. That’s just a sex-induced mirage you’re seeing there.”</p><p>With a grin, Elizabeth got past his slapping hands to slide a soft hand down into his pants, giving him a squeeze.  “Doesn’t feel like a mirage.”</p><p>“A hallucination then,” Peter countered, but no longer trying to disentangle himself from her touch.  What was the point?  His wife and junior were running the show again.  His one moment of control was long gone, dust in the wind.</p><p>Dropping to her knees, Elizabeth yanked down the sweatpants and proceeded to give him a-well a rather mediocre blowjob.  It got the job done, and she swallowed every drop, but it was far from her best performance in that department.  And as he watched his wife slowly rise to her feet, it dawned on Peter that she was just as tired as he was!</p><p>Locking eyes after pulling up his sweats, Peter felt rather triumphant.  “You’re tired too,” he accused, “and you can’t keep this pace up either.”</p><p>Elizabeth started to deny it but settled on a shrug.  “I don’t have to.  I just have to outlast you which we both know I can.”</p><p>That left Peter something to think about because she was 100% right on that one.  Biology itself left Peter at a distinct disadvantage.  </p><p>“In fact,” Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eye, “I could go again right now.”</p><p>No fucking way, he thought.  She had just been thoroughly fucked and couldn’t possibly rebound that quickly-biology or not.  Yet, her eyes never wavered from his, and her smile only grew broader the longer he stared at her.  He knew she was daring him to call her bluff, but if he did so and was wrong…  </p><p>They continued their stare down, neither willing to concede to the other.   But in the end, Peter knew this was a game he could not win.  With a sigh, he dropped his eyes and moved away from Elizabeth and into the living room.  He returned a moment later, TV remote in hand.  He watched as she bit her lip, trying to be a gracious winner at least.  Still it physically pained him to turn the remote over, pop open the back, and remove the four batteries inside.</p><p>“You sure about this?” his wife asked.  “You’re willing to give up TV for over a week if necessary?”</p><p>Peter tried not to flinch at her words.  The prospect of no TV for even a day was unsettling enough.  But he nodded and though reluctant, hand practically shaking, he passed the batteries over.</p><p>Pocketing them, Elizabeth smiled, gave him a quick peck on the check and went humming out of the room presumably upstairs to insert the batteries into her favorite toy; likely the hot pink one that most resembled the same size as Peter.  But Peter didn’t have the energy to follow her and instead dropped down into the nearest chair.  His entire body (minus one certain part) was relieved just to have this saga over with and to know he could get back to his case files now without fear of victory celebrations.  </p><p>And the Burke household returned to normal, a calm place where both parties happily co-existed.  That is until they hit the week mark into the lockdown…</p><p>“Elizabeth Mitchell Burke!”  Peter yelled, having stumbled upon something in their third floor, seldom used bedroom.  Staring at it, Peter thought he had to be wrong.  It just couldn’t possibly be what he thought it was. “Get your sweet, perfect little ass up here!”  Lucy has some fucking explaining to do! he muttered to himself.</p><p>Moments later his wife was standing in the doorway, her eyes gravitated to the object on the bedside table.  She bit her lip before calmly returning her attention to him as he stood before her with both hands on his hips in what she always termed his classic FBI Agent stance.</p><p>“Yes, Peter?” she asked, voice of innocence.   By her act, there was practically a halo circling around her head.  And Peter would have laughed if he hadn’t been reeling from his discovery.  </p><p>“Would you care to tell me what this is?”  Peter said, his tone low and dangerous as he pointed not at what they both knew to be her favorite vibrator; the hot pink one that was waterproof with perfectly placed rabbit ears that even had their own separate motor.  No, the vibrator was most certainly not what Peter’s eyes were locked on.  The item drawing his wrath was the thing attached to her favorite vibrator.</p><p>“That’s a USB cable,” Elizabeth answered with a straight face.</p><p>“So-so-this vibrator-” Peter said, sputtering, face red, still not believing what he was seeing.  He didn’t want to believe that his wife could be so devious, but the look on her face was one of pure mischief and all the proof he needed.</p><p>“-is completely rechargeable,” she confirmed.</p>
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